A Diamond In The Rough
by Vladimir Holmes
Summary: The war is over and the Dragon of the West is enjoying a peaceful life with his nephew and granddaughter. Three parts. From Iroh's POV
1. Part I

"Mmmm,well done, this tea is delicious," said the retired general as he stared down at his granddaughter, her hands clasped on her lap, eyes trained on his face to watch his reaction to the brew.

"Im glad you like it, Grandpa," she said, a shy smile gracing her face. "Father said your favorites were Ginseng and Jasmine, so I tried a mix of my own."

Iroh stroked his beard contemplatively, the hairs of it long since gone from grey to white, while calmly drinking the rest of his tea, a pleasant smile on his face.

"You have learned well in the art of teamaking, my young pupil," Iroh joked, winking at the brown haired girl. She really did take after her father he thought, as he watched as the shy smile formed into a grin and then into a laugh. The glee at the complement played on her nine year old face, her long hair flowing down her back and swishing with the motions of her head as she shook her head in mock disappointment, her golden eyes closing as she made sounds of disapproval.

"For a girl who looks and acts exactly like her father, let's be glad you didn't inherit his skill in tea making...bleh!" Iroh scoffed, and the girls laughter started with renewed vigor.

"Would you like to continue?" the old man asked, gesturing to an abandoned game of Pai Sho, its table in the left corner of the vast room. Iroh had begun teaching his granddaughter the basics of the game at the ripe age of four. Honora had a quick mind for her age and what had at first been tentative placements of tiles on the board had blossomed into an easy confidence with the game. The girl had even managed to beat her grandfather a few times. The Dragon of the West chuckled as he recalled the girl's expression as she beat him for the first time.

"I... I can't believe it!," his granddaughter had practically squealed, her eyes wide at the realisation of her accomplishment. "Grandpa, I just beat you!" After the initial shock was over, her small five year old face had held a smug look as she pointed to her grinning elder. Iroh had praised her, and set off to make some tea with one of his special blends as celebration.

Since then, Honora had managed to beat him an astounding number of times. Few people rarely held the upper hand when it came to playing Pai Sho with the Grand Master, but Iroh enjoyed the challenge. It also gave him the opportunity to spend time with his only granddaughter while her father was busy with his Fire Lord duties.

Honora nodded and began to get up from her seat, her red robes making a rustling sound as she walked to the game table. Halfway to her destination, she stopped short, a hand coming up to her mouth in a gasp. Whirling around, she blinked and quickly bowed to her grandfather in the traditional Fire Nation style. Taking quick steps toward the door, she explained her hasty departure, looking over her shoulder as she did so.

"I'm late for firebending practice! Will you join me in the courtyard to watch?"

Iroh nodded as he watched her small figure disappear, heading out towards the practice courtyards. He put his teapot and cups away, all the while contemplating the joy the simple things in life brought him. The war was 15 years past, and after the initial chaos ensued, the world, it seemed, was now in order, all four nations working together. The Air Temples had been restored to their former glory thanks to the Avatar and feuds over territory and refugees had been eventually settled in all corners of the world with help from ambassadors like Katara of the Joined Water Tribes and a few others.

His nephew had done wonderfully in his new role, so unlike his predecessor, ruling with fairness and a decisiveness that Iroh had to admire. Yes, his nephew had done well with his life, despite his struggles in his younger years. The man had even gotten married, and now held his own well-deserved share of happiness. Iroh recalled how at one point, he thought the boy had been lost forever, sucked into the toxic environment that was Fire Lord Ozai's court after Ba Sing Se. He had been so relieved and happy when, just days before the arrival of the fabled Sozin's Comet, he had found his nephew in his tent upon waking, begging for his forgiveness. Iroh had simply held him as they both cried, never having held contempt for the boy, only glad he had found his way back to the correct path.

Iroh walked with his hands clasped together under his great flowing sleeves, making his way to the courtyard/arena that was commonly used for firebending practice. He liked to watch the occasional spars between father and daughter when he could, sometimes even taking over a lesson to teach his granddaughter a few special tricks or a new form. Despite his aging body, the Dragon of the West still sparred occasionally with his nephew or the aforementioned's wife, just to keep in shape and to keep his techniques from getting rusty. These sparring sessions had no violent purposes, but were simply for staying agile or testing his granddaughters ever evolving skills.

As he passed the turtle duck pond near the family quarters, Iroh felt a hand clamp down on his right shoulder in a amicable way.

"You're late," he commented with a smile on his face, not having to look to guess who the new arrival was. "Honora will be waiting for you."

"I know, I know Uncle," came the raspy voice. "I just had a meeting with one of the Earth Kingdom Ambassadors, and they took forever to finish."

Zuko had changed from his Fire Lord attire into his sparring garbs, a white flowing shirt complete with wrist & chest guard, his black pants tucked into his calf length leather boots. He walked alongside Iroh, a hand lifting to rub his neck in an offhand way.

They came to the courtyard to see that the young girl had already begun practicing her forms, occasionally sprouting fire from her small fists as she moved to and fro with precise and controlled movements. Hearing their approach, though silent, she stopped mid strike and turned around to face her father and grandfather, arms crossed and a brow raised.

"You're late", she chorused Iroh's earlier statement, an unimpressed look on her face. Her words were directed at the Fire Lord.  
Iroh chuckled as he watched his nephew's calm look break into a momentary scowl at his daughter's haughty accusation, only to be replaced with a small smile.  
"Im sorry, Honora, but the Earth Kingdom Ambassador made me late. I'll make it up to you." Zuko motioned to the courtyard's ancient cobblestones, some spots black with soot from previous fires. "Shall we?"  
He descended the 3 steps off the raised dais of the pathway, and gave his daughter a grin as he faced her.  
"Show your Grandpa and I what Master Ling has been teaching you. Are you ready?"  
Iroh sat down cross legged beneath the red tiled roof covering the pathway, leaning against one of the great marble pillars. He readjusted his robes underneath him, making himself comfortable, and looked up to see Honora nodding and both benders bowing to each other before positioning themselves into fighting stances.  
With a smile, the Fire Lord made the first move, a low kick, sprouting fire from his feet. Honora dodged, returning the attack with fire spurting punches, aiming for her father's chest. Zuko easily deflected the blows, and the two continued to circle each other, taking brief moments of pause between sets of attack to regain their breath, which had become heavy. Iroh had to admit, the girl was an excellent firebender, quick on her feet and agile. He continued to watch the "fight" between father and daughter, and smiled when he saw Honora dodge a fireball and duck behind a pillar. His grin went even wider as he heard her breathing and gasping from behind it. His nephew frowned, letting his guard down in a moment of fatherly concern . The Fire Lord walked towards the pillar, worry evident on his face. Three steps away, the Fire Lord let out a yelp as his daughter sprung from behind the giant pillar began mercilessly throwing firepunches and breathing fire at her father, having faked exhaustion. Iroh laughed at the girl's cunning and devious strategy. Oh yes, this girl would soon become a Master.

The Fire Lord, having previously dropped his guard, struggled against the barrage of flame, barely able to deflect it. Falling and rolling to the side, Zuko dodged another fireball, this time aimed for his head.  
"Do you concede to defeat , oh mighty Fire Lord?" his daughter taunted, a smug look on her face, towering over her father, one arm out aimed to his face, ready to strike again.  
Zuko laughed, obviously proud of his daughter.  
"Yes, you got me. Very ingenious of you, using my concern to your advantage. You'll make a fine Firebender one day."  
The girl blushed at the praise and stood back, unconsiously brushing back a piece of hair that had come out of her braid.  
The Fire Lord got up and went to get him and his daughter a towel to wipe off and a cool glass of lemonade, sitting on a tray on a low table nearby.

Iroh watched his nephew hand a towel to his daughter, wiping his head with his own and settling down on the steps near his uncle, Honora following suit. As the old man watched the two, smiling and joking with each other, he smiled to himself. Yes, things had most definitely changed for the better. Out of all the terror and struggle the war had brought upon his family, they had found peace at last.


	2. Part II

Iroh was yet again brewing himself a cup of tea. This time, it was a new flavor, a white jasmine mix, sent over from his grand daughter in her travels to the Earth Kingdom as an ambassador. The girl, as predicted, had grown up beautifully, becoming a firebending master at the young age of twelve. Iroh knew her exceptional firebending abilities somewhat worried his nephew, fearing his daughter would become another Azula.

Iroh sighed, remembering the unraveling of his niece's sanity during the war. It truly was a sad thing to happen such a powerful bender lain to waste by the twistedness of her upbringing. Iroh had never seen any potential for help with Azula, wondering how someone could be so corrupted to the depths of her heart. At the same time, he had pityed her immensely, knowing from a young age that she was beyond saving.

When Honora came along, he knew his nephew worried greatly for his daughter's fate. Though somewhat unconcious, the wise old man knew Zuko feared his daughter would end up as destructive as his sister, and would do anything to prevent it. Zuko's opinion on the matter was revealed soon after his daughter's birth, in one of the many lengthy discussions had with his uncle by the hearth in the Fire Lord's chambers.

Zuko had told his uncle that for a long time, he had not wanted children, fearing that the evil permeated by his ancestors and family would somehow transfer itself genetically to his offspring. Even with his councellors urging him to continue the royal bloodline and secure the throne, it had taken years for him to even consider this possibility.

Iroh smiled weakly. It was so unfortunate that his nephew had grown up the way he did. The father's mistakes had managed to trickle down into his offspring, latching itself and fermenting in Azula, and torturing Zuko.

Of course, it was quickly evident that Zuko's daughter was the polar opposite of his sister. The only similarity being the gender of which she was born and the raw talent with the bending of her element displayed from an early age. But then again, Iroh reflected, power and skill could be acquired different ways and by nearly anyone with time and effort. How one chose to use it was what mattered. No, Honora was nothing like her aunt. The girl possessed an immensily kind heart, wit & beauty, and was a gentle creature overall. She had never met her, but she rather possessed the temperament of her grandmother, the Lady Ursa, with of course the occassional outburst of temper inherited from her father (unfortunately, the family's shortness of temper was a difficult thing to dilute with generation).

In mid contemplation, a young boy was admitted in Iroh's tea room. The boy shyly made his way to the old man, glancing from him to the floor, obviously nervous to be in his presence. With a traditional Fire Nation bow, the boy extended a hand, handing a sealed letter to the Dragon of the West. If one looked closely, one could just make out a faded lotus in the seal. Iroh accepted the letter with a smile, and nodded dismissal to the boy. Reassured, the boy turned to leave, and Iroh was soon alone to resume his inner thoughts.

Iroh had noticed a brilliant fighter and a strategist early on in his grand daughter, and in his greatly advanced age, had begun looking for someone to carry on his life's work. Zuko would not do, his current position making the consideration impossible, nor was there anyone else the Grand Master could think of to take his place. There were certainly many worthy of this task, but none that would suit him fully.

Reading the letter, Iroh put thoughts of succession to the back of his mind, and walked to the aviaries, quickly scribbling the same quick note on four separate square pieces of parchment before rolling them up and sending off hawks to deliver his message. Of the Masters of the White Lotus, the only ones to remain from the war were Master Piandao and Master Jeong Jeong. The other two Masters had been replaced with trusted successors, the new Masters former students of Bumi and Pakku.

There would be a White Lotus congregation in the next week, and Iroh hoped that Honora would be back from her mission in the Earth Kingdom by then. He had taken the girl to a few meetings since an early age, showing her the inner workings of the ancient society. He recalled how one day around the age of 13, she had been by his side as he wrote a coded letter and sealed it with a stamp.

« Why are the letters all jumbled Grandpa ? And why aren't you using your customary stamp to seal the enveloppe ? » she had asked, a curious look on her face and a frown forming between her brows.

Iroh had then sighed, and explained to her his role as Grand Master. The girl had sat and listened with rapt interest amongst the red cushions that littered the office, exclaiming from surprise or delight as Iroh delved deeper in his recital of White Lotus history. Honora was a bright girl, and Iroh trusted her to guard his secret with her life. It had only been a matter of time until she had asked him shyly if she could come along to one of their secret meetings, and Iroh willingly let her.

The day was getting late, and Iroh went for a walk around the turtleduck ponds, a place he sought out for its calming effects. There had recently been an outbreak of rebellion in the Earth Kingdom, its leader claiming superiority over non benders. The whole thing was rather minor, but if ambassadors had been called in to intervene, this possibly meant a more serious matter was at hand, and it greatly worried Iroh. Not to mention the fact that his only grand daughter was in the midst of it all.

After his brisk walk, Iroh headed for his rooms where he expected to find his supper laid out and waiting for him. He had talked to the cook this morning, and was rather excited that her meal plan for the day included some komodo chicken.

The sun was just coming down over the horizon as he crossed the threshold to his room, taking in the dark red tapestries and the rich smell emanating from the covered dishes on the lowered table. With a twitch of his forefinger, the Dragon of the West lit the wall sconces and candelabras strategically placed around the room, and was delighted to find a meal companion sitting demurely at the table.

« Hello Grandpa ! » she said, a smile permeating her face.

Brown eyes met gold ones, and for a second they just stared at each other. She had been gone a month or more, and it was just so good to see her. She was even home early !

They embraced, a frail man and a woman all grown up a picture of family love with arms intertwined around each others middles.

As they sat down on opposite sides of the darkwooded table, Honora began recounting her adventures in the Earth Kingdom, all the while adding bits of food to her plate and his.

On her first day there, she along with several other ambassadors had been attacked at port by rebel troops. The renegades had set one of the docked embassy ships afire (not the one she had been on, she assured her grandfather as a look of horror crossed his age spotted face). Things had gotten better after that frightful first encounter, and with time they were able to negotiate a peaceful surrender with the leader of the oppressors, effectively putting a stop to the intimidations. The whole thing had been resolved faster than anticipated and a few peace agreements later, Honora had been able to go home.

« Forgive me, I should have told you, but it all happened so quickly and I couldn't resist giving you a surprise » she exclaimed between bites, her chopsticks poised over her plate.

« Im glad to have you back safe and sound » Iroh hold her, crossing his arms together under his wide billowing sleeves. « Does your father know you've come back already ? »

A mischievous look crossed her young face at that and she told him that no, she had raced here first as soon as she had arrived.

« Hmm,» Iroh thought. « I suppose I should let you go see your father and mother. Won't you stay for a quick cup of tea ? »

The seventeen year old nodded assent, brushing back a long lock of dark brown hair out of her eyes. She never wore her crown on missions or when travelling.

The tea set to brew and Iroh told her of the happenings of the palace during her absence. Her tutor had gotten married to a waterbender as expected, and he assured her that the turtleducks had been dutifully fed twice a day, everyday. The liking for the creatures seemed to run in the family. Honora then proceeded to tell him about a stealth mission they had needed to be done a few days after the ship burning. He was stunned to hear her confess she had volunteered to infiltrate the rebel camp they had discovered with information gathered around the docks. She was apparently not fazed by the danger she had so nobly thrown herself into. He noted the levelheadedness she appeared to maintain throughout the mission as she recounted it to him, and the preparation and planning that went into it, all of her own devising. Quite proud of his grand daughter, the old man realised he had just found himself a suitable Grand Lotus.


	3. Part III

That morning, Iroh had felt it. Something was different, and he _knew._ As his aged body lay comfortably in his warm bed, surrounded by family, he could feel it in his bones; there was no warm tea that could cure old age.

Honora was by his bedside, her knees pressed against the red velvet bedspread as she sat on a chair. She held his left hand, stroking the age spotted surface, softly humming to no one in particular. If Iroh turned his head to the left, he could see his nephew, the Fire Lord, standing by the window, his back rigid, his hands resting against the sill. The sun was just cresting over the lifting morning haze, casting Zuko's profile in a halo of soft golden light. His wife was by his side, her body facing the inside of the room. The couple were not touching, but were near enough to the other, silently offering mutual comfort. Iroh closed his eyes, took a rattling breath, and reflected.

His life hadn't been easy, filled with war and sorrow. He had grown up with a father cruel beyond words, and despite his upbringing, had managed to turn out alright, he concided. His brother however, hadn't been able to consciously distance himself from the evil that was deemed the norm in their father's court. In charge of the nation's army at the young age of sixteen, Iroh had gone to war, and was ashamed of all the acts he commited in his youth. He hadn't known any better, slaughtering Earth Kingdom men and women. He recalled the terrified screams and cries of newly orphaned children he had witnessed on the battlefield, clutching to the scorched form of their parent. The Fire Nation had been merciless in their distruction all these years, and his family was directly responsible for that. This was one of the many regrets Iroh had had to live with.

Amidst all the distruction, he had had his moments of personal glory, a few periods of time filled with love. He remembered the day he met his wife, Anya. She had been a lady of the court, and he had been practicing his swordmanship in the palace courtyard with his much younger brother. Iroh was twelve years senior than Ozai. The two had been fighting with passion, Iroh giving his younger sibling advice as he parried various blows.

As Azulon's youngest son sent his older brother's sword flying through the air in a creative maneuver, Iroh heard giggling as he fell to the ground.

Little Ozai stood gaping in front of his brother sprawled on the cobble stones, his mouth open and golden eyes wide with admiration.

Sitting up on his elbows, Iroh turned his head towards the sound behind him. Standing there in a lovely purple and cream dress, stood the most beautiful young woman Iroh had ever seen.

Shaking his head to come out from his daze, Iroh had gotten up and shooed his brother away before walking over and introducing himself to the gorgeous young lady.

A year later, they were married, and three years afterwards, Anya had given birth to his son, Lu Ten.

Iroh still recalled the sleekness of her long dark hair between his fingers and the sweet tilt of her dark eyes when she smiled lovingly at him.

He recalled his most famous failure in the eyes of the Fire Nation, the Siege of Ba Sing Se. This was back when he had still thought himself invincible, falsely convinced of his greatness by his nation. It was also the time when he lost the only other thing apart from his wife that he held dear.

In the 600 days of the siege, his son had perished, crushed and killed by an earthbender stone hurled his way. Fortunately, Iroh had not been there to witness his son's dying moments and could only begin to imagine what his last moments had been like. Iroh hoped that his death was quick and painless, unlike the process of grief he had had to go through himself. Iroh still recalled the last words they had said to each other :

_Fight well my son, you are brave._

With his advice came the confident yet solemn reply,

_I know._

It was all it took. Their last moments weren't tearful, nor were they full of love simply an acknoledgement that the duty to their country was one they couldn't fight, and that perhaps, if they were lucky, the end of the day would see them together again. Having said it at least three hundred times before to each other, Iroh couldn't have known that this was the last time.

Then, there had been Zuko. Zuko, the innocent boy, the complicated teenager, the great man overcoming his demons. Zuko, the foolish, temperamental boy the just Fire Lord.

Iroh hadn't fully realised it when he took him under his wing as the disgraced prince of the Fire Nation, but this boy had potential, and had again and again proven him wrong. He_ was_ capable of change, he _was _capable of greatness despite his surroundings crushing his spirit. Zuko was strong, and just like his motto, he never gave up without a fight. Iroh reveled as he watched him mature and grow on their travels, especially proud of his nephew as he joined the Avatar. Zuko, in the end, had figured out what was right by himself.

And there he was, now standing by his side. Iroh coughed, and felt his heart begin to slow. Taking deep rattling breaths, he raised his eyes up to the scared face now looking down on him. That scar was a test to his strength, a permanent reminder of what he had overcome as a young man a proof of achievement.

Iroh was so proud of him.

He turned his head in the opposite direction, his sparse white hair rustling on the pillow as he moved.

Looking down on him with love and devotion as well as tears in her eyes, was his grand daughter. What a beautiful woman she had blossomed too. He looked at both of his loved ones, a soft smile on his face and sighed in contentment. Life had been hard, but it had been worth it.

By his side, the Fire Lord sat down and gripped his uncle's hand. The woman next to him looked on, watching her husband shed silent tears, as well as feeling her own sliding down her cheeks.

On the other side of the bed, one could hear the sound of a hoarse voice, the lyrics escaping her mouth broken by sobs :

_Leaves from the vine,_

_Falling so slow,_

_Like fragile, tiny shells,_

_Drifting in the foam,_

_Little soldier boy,_

_Come marching home._

As the ending lines of the song floated in the wind, the sun fully uncovered itself from the confines of the clouds and shone on the turtleduck ponds in the palace courtyards.

_Brave soldier boy, comes marching home._


End file.
